


she's waiting and i know what for

by girljustdied



Category: Misfits (TV 2009)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-09
Updated: 2011-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-03 21:03:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17291387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girljustdied/pseuds/girljustdied
Summary: they just can't let it go.





	she's waiting and i know what for

**Author's Note:**

> prompt was "it won't work between us until you let him go!"

“This isn’t gonna work,” Alisha tells him. Blurts it out, like she can’t hold back any longer.

It’s a sunny afternoon, but they can’t tell it inside the flat that used to belong to his future self. No windows and all. It’s a sunny afternoon, and they’d been seeing each other—she’d revealed they were supposed to be seeing each other—for a little over a month. It mostly entailed him still finding her looking at him. A lot. But this time being allowed to look back. Walking her to her new job at the bar with Curtis and having an actual reason to feel jealous. Threatened. Taking her to see films, taking her out for pizza, taking her anywhere she’d let him—but still feeling like he’s the one following her around.

He can’t believe it’s already over. He can’t believe it lasted this long. Says, “I know.”

Hangs his head and presses a palm over his eyes so he doesn’t have to see her looking so beautiful and strong. Surely any second her face will close off, and her mouth will curl at the sight of him. Like before. Now that she finally sees he’ll never be what he somehow already was to her.

“Simon?” her voice is sympathetic. It’s comforting. He’s never been one to reject pity—it’s better than a whole other host of emotions people tend to send his direction. “Simon, what’s wrong?”

Her hand’s on his wrist over his jacket, tugging his arm just slightly. Not to actually pull his hand away from his face, but more to clue him in that she wants him to. So he sets his arm back down at his side carefully and turns his head to look at her sitting next to him on the edge of the bed.

“You don’t have to be so scared,” she says quietly. “I mean, I understand why you would be, but—”

“What?” he interrupts, confused by how she’s still looking at him. “What are you talking about?”

She’s quiet for a moment. “What did you think I was talking about?” Then, maybe at the look on his face. “Ending things?”

He nods, throat tight.

“But we haven’t even started. Not really,” she laughs a little bit, like maybe he’s being ridiculous or something. Her eyes are serious, though. “We haven’t even kissed, Simon.”

See, that he doesn’t understand. Yes, they hadn’t attempted to approach the physical side of things as of yet—did that make what was happening between them any less real? How he felt about her? He knew things now, and not even from spying on her with Curtis or Kelly, or from the information the probation workers had on file.

Her favorite color is blue. A surprise, until she’d gone further to say “ _Like hi—your eyes_.” She’d wanted to be a ballet dancer as a young girl. Then, fleetingly, a veterinarian. He found that hard to believe, suspected maybe she was just trying to pad her following aspiration: " _wife of a rich doctor or lawyer or something_." She doesn’t like onions, or the kind of rides at carnivals that were shaped like spaceships, or photos taken from below her eyeline, or the way he likes to keep his hair. 

She’d never said anything aloud about the latter, but always looked vaguely disappointed whenever he moved to smooth it into place.

They were close. Closer. Simon felt like they were a unit—wasn’t that what being a couple was supposed to be like?

She’d once kissed the lens of the camera on his phone. Made his heart race.

“We can’t kiss,” he replies, too bitter—makes his voice get hard and low. “Because I’m not _him_.”

She frowns, brow furrowed with something akin to confusion. Almost looks afraid. “Will you hold still? No matter what I do?”

“Yes.” Anything.

She leans her face towards him slowly, presses her lips to his lightly. Just for a second, just barely. Keeps her mouth a hair’s breadth from his after, eyes staring hard at him. He doesn’t move, desperately wants her to do it again. She does after a moment’s hesitation. Just as fast, but firmer. Again, her hand moving to grip the shoulder further from her, and her legs shifting and twisting with his. Again. Again.

“Are you okay?” She asks, breathless. A small strand of saliva stretching between his mouth and hers before snapping.

He’s not sure. He wants to crush her down into the mattress. Take her breath again. Make her—

“Simon?”

He tries to find his voice. “Yes—yeah. But please stop now.”

She sighs. “Okay.” Slumps down on the mattress with a hand over her heart. Eyes on the ceiling.

“Alisha?” she cranes her head towards him at the sound of his voice. “What—what are you thinking right now?”

“I’m thinking we should move in here,” her voice is resolute, “together.”

He wonders if it’s supposed to happen. If the future him told her after all the mind-blowing sex and saving everyone’s lives and generally outperforming anything he could ever possibly manage. _For now_ , he tries to tell himself. Finally just asks, “Did he tell you that we’re supposed to?”

“I wish you’d stop asking that all the fucking time. Let it go.”

He wishes he didn’t have to. That she—

Says instead, “Do you need help moving in any of your things?”


End file.
